Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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Doors through grief

I stand on the newer side
of grief, not knowing what
that opening will bring,
but trusting my intent, certain
that this journey must be made.
God help me there is still love,
a garment long worn thin.
I do have hope, the gift
of help, caring hands to clasp,
many loving words.
Mine only if I ask, and
swing this new door
wide to admit them.
Today new portents fly
the sky, great cloud wings
that form a goose.
A sign, a love borne gift
come from the past
to urge the leap of faith,
to go fly free.
It whispers trust your spirit,
it will guide you, trust
your strength it will not fail you.
A new door opens, hope is thrumming
and I step through.

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I truly think the goose-shaped cloud was my spirit guide the day I saw it.